The King of Limbs
by MiSSxMELON
Summary: Parallel story to Reckoner. Told from Cato's POV.
1. Girl on Fire

A/N: This is the parallel story to **Reckoner** and is told from Cato's POV. Enjoy.

* * *

><p>The girl on fire.<p>

Ever since the opening ceremonies, I have not been able to get the image of her riding in that chariot, flames enveloping her, out of my head. It made an impression on everyone, but it never left my mind. It is all I think about day and night, and it takes every bit of strength to not let my obsession show. I shoot glances at her when I think no one else is looking. I take detailed mental notes and replay my observations of her every night to try to glean some kind of information about her, but she is stoic and difficult to read. I'm sure I'm not completely successful in hiding my interest in her, but she is the center of attention, though among the other tributes it isn't necessarily good attention, so I don't appear out of the ordinary.

Of course, the intrigue began a while ago, specifically back at the reaping.

I watched the replays of the other districts to size up my competition. And there she was, the girl from District 12, the only other tribute who had volunteered. I immediately noticed her. Her district was pathetic, and if I weren't a tribute, I would have overlooked her district's reaping, but I saw something different in her. She had strength. Not physically, like me, but she resonated an immense inner strength, and despite her obvious nervousness, she was brave.

I know she volunteered for her sister. Most tributes have siblings, but you don't see their brothers and sisters volunteering to take their place. So she's much closer to her sister than most people are, and I also noticed, once I watched the tapes again, that her father was nowhere to be seen. Nor was she particularly kind to her mother. She's obviously been through some kind of trauma – why else is she so guarded? Her eyes are serious, reflecting an older person who has been through a lot. I don't doubt that she's had a difficult life.

I, on the other hand, volunteered out of pride and ambition. I've trained my entire life for the Games. Unlike the others, I am eager to fight. I want to bring honor to my district. And, growing up watching every second of the Games, I know that I'm the best there's ever been. I've been absolutely positive that I will win, up until now.

The girl on fire.

I'm not just interested in her because she's unique. I'm interested in her because, like me, she's unlike anyone who has ever fought in the Games, and she is my only threat. Her ambition is as strong as mine, if not stronger. The others – they want to survive. But for me, for the girl on fire, there is only winning. We won't settle for less.

I thought I had figured it all out, but I never anticipated someone like her coming along. She could ruin my plans. It's either her or me.

* * *

><p>"You coming?" Clove yells from the living room.<p>

I rub my hair with the towel and then toss it on the floor. Opening the top drawer of my dresser, I snatch the first pair of pants I see and slip into them.

"Cato! They're about to start!" Clove yells.

"Coming," I shout back irritably. I'm not the most patient person in the world, but neither is Clove.

"If you miss yours, I'm not telling you!" she shoots back. Typical Clove.

I don't bother putting on a shirt because I can hear the announcer's voice, and I really don't want to miss hearing my score, even though Clove would tell me.

I want to see what our competition, or allies for the time being, from District 1 is like. I'm not worried about District 4 because they're weak this year. I let them join our alliance only because it's tradition, and we could use the numbers. But Marvel and Glimmer agreed with Clove and me that they're going to be the first ones to go, once the alliance is over. I don't see them lasting until then though.

Marvel and Glimmer on the other hand are more capable. I've observed them in training, but tributes always hold back there, so they could be hiding something. I don't bother hiding my skills, though, because I know I'm the best. I'm positive I'll get the highest score.

I walk into the living room and flop onto the couch. Clove takes one look at me and rolls her eyes.

"You missed Marvel," Clove says.

"So what," I shrug. "I know what he's capable of."

"Don't act like you don't care," Clove says, annoyed. "He got a nine."

I suppose that was to be expected. Marvel's main skill is spear throwing, but I'm just as good as him.

The announcer then gives Glimmer's score – also a nine. That's surprising because although she can fight, she's not exceptional. Nor is she the brightest. I wouldn't have given her anything higher than an eight.

"We better beat them," Clove grumbles.

And then I'm up. I clench my fists in anticipation. The announcer comments on my large stature, and I wish that he would just get on with it.

Ten.

Okay, not bad. It's extremely rare to see an eleven, and no one has ever gotten a twelve. I'm okay with a ten. It's better than District 1 in any case, which means my score will definitely be higher than the others.

Lost in my thoughts, I don't hear Clove's score, but suddenly she's jumping up and down.

"Ha! I got a ten, too!" she says. "Looks like we're going to get all the sponsors!"

She deserves it. Clove is deadly with her knife-throwing abilities. I don't look forward to fighting her. It won't be fun because, as much as I like killing, I do enjoy her presence, and she is the best ally I could ask for. We jive well. But I don't see anyone else really who can take her on, except for maybe the boy from District 11. Hopefully he'll get to her before I have to.

"Come on, let's get breakfast," Clove says.

"What about the guy from eleven?" I say.

I really just want to see what the girl on fire gets. She's been keeping a low profile in the Training Center. She has the others convinced that she's weak, but I am positive she's been holding back. Still, I'm hoping they're right and that she gets a low score because to me she's the biggest threat there is. I need to know if my theory is right.

"He'll probably get at least a nine," Clove says. "But who cares – he doesn't want to join us, and even if he got a twelve, he won't stand a chance against the six of us."

That's true. And even if he gets a better score as us, we'll still get the sponsors because the guy is not likeable at all. I've never heard him utter a word, and he's always glaring at everyone. It intimidates the others, but not me. Let's just say his personality won't attract any sponsors.

"Unless he's one of the last ones left," I reply. Once the alliance is broken, no one will stand a chance against him except me.

"Well we both know you could do it," Clove folds her arms, tapping her foot impatiently. She doesn't like to dish out compliments. "But if you want to see his score, fine."

We grab some food from the kitchen and bring it back to the living room. Somewhere around District 8, Enobaria strolls in, yawning, and takes a seat.

"Finally up?" Clove says sarcastically.

"Was there anything I needed to be worried about?" Enobaria shoots back. "You'll get your sponsors."

"We have the highest scores, so we better," I warn her.

The boy from District 11 gets a ten, which isn't surprising. He will be a challenge in the arena, and I look forward to it. The girl gets a seven, which is high for someone of her age and size. Clove is also somewhat small and young, though, so this other girl really doesn't stand a chance.

And then it's to District 12. We're all silent. I know that Clove and Enobaria are just as curious as me. We want her to be a fluke, to show us that, beneath the flames, she's nothing. But my instinct tells me that's not the case.

The boy gets an eight. I've seen him train, and he's strong.

The girl on fire is on the screen now, and I sit up straight to listen to her score.

Eleven.

_Eleven._

"What the-" Enobaria says, jumping up from her seat.

"Eleven?" Clove cries in disbelief. "That's not possible!"

"What the hell did she show the judges?" Enobaria says angrily. And then, turning to Clove, "You said she wasn't any good."

"The only stations she visits in the Training Center are survival based – finding edible plants, camouflaging, that kind of stuff," Clove retorts. "You tell me how I'm supposed to know she's got some superpower."

"She's been hiding her strengths from us," I say, siding with Clove.

"Well you better find out how she got that eleven," Enobaria says, narrowing her eyes. "Because you just lost your sponsors."


	2. The Plan

A/N: Here's another installment. I'm not sure if I should continue writing Cato's POV or not. I may just turn this into a one-shot, but let me know what you think. If there's enough demand, I'll continue with this story.

Thank you to my reviewers who have their PM feature disabled: **once and future** and **Wind Spirt** and to my anonymous reviewers: **Cassie** and **raion**!

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><p>Enobaria tells me to invite the girl from District 12 into our alliance. Our group will appear invincible if we team up with her, and it's the only way to gain back sponsors. We're bland compared to her – the girl on fire who sacrificed herself for her sister – and with her score of an eleven, everyone will be betting on her. Plus, in her case, coming from District 12 actually helps her; she's the underdog, and everyone is rooting for her.<p>

Clove hates the idea.

"We'll appear weak if we bow down to her," Clove spits. "There's six of us and one of her. Eleven or not, she won't stand a chance. We'll hunt her down first."

But to me, that plan doesn't sound very easy. The girl on fire doesn't seem confrontational. We don't know what the arena will look like. If she's as skilled as her score shows, she could easily escape and perhaps even outmaneuver us.

"It's your choice," Enobaria shrugs. "If you think you can win it without sponsors, go for it. But don't let pride get in your way."

That's exactly the issue here. Clove is seething with hatred. I can see it in her eyes. She hates being bested, which I can relate to, but she doesn't see this girl the way I do. Like everyone else, Clove is prejudiced against District 12. And while I agree with Clove that almost every single citizen of that district is worthless, I have come to terms that this girl from District 12 is my only equal in the Games.

Clove, on the other hand, can't deal with it. She wants more than anything to get her hands on this girl, or more specifically her knives.

"_She's_ the one who really needs sponsors," Clove says, but we both know that's not true.

"I agree with Enobaria," I say, preparing for Clove's wrath. I can't let her pride screw us over. "This isn't like the guy from District 11. We have no idea what her secret weapon is. What if her sponsors send her exactly what she needs to hunt _us_ down? Remember when that guy from District 4 got a trident from his sponsors and he massacred everyone?"

Clove is glaring at me now, but I can tell she sees my logic. It's easier hearing it from me than Enobaria, who is quick to criticize us. Since she hasn't interrupted me yet, I continue.

"If we invite her into our alliance, she'll have to tell us how she got that eleven," I say. "We need to understand her better before we try to hunt her. Once we know her secrets, we can kill her. Besides, she could be more useful than our other allies."

Except in reality it would be a shame to kill her immediately. I want to see her in action, to know if she is really worthy of that eleven. Of course, if she is, it shouldn't be that easy to kill her.

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I like Enobaria's idea. How does the saying go? Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer. And I will admit that part of me _wants_ to work with her. With our similarities, we could be great partners. Clove is talented, to be sure, and up until now I thought she was the best ally I could have, but she has shown me that her pride can cloud her judgment. Besides, this girl has so much more potential. It would be fun getting close to her; our final showdown would go down in history.

I can see Clove gritting her teeth. She's angry and she hates it, but she assents.

"Fine, but _you_ have to ask her," she says before storming off.

She's probably going to her room to blow off some steam, which means a lot of knives and a lot of dents in the wall.

"Well that much is obvious," Enobaria says after Clove's gone. "She won't accept if Clove asks. And she might not accept your invitation either. You don't understand - it's not just about asking her. She definitely doesn't trust you, and if Clove doesn't keep her emotions in line, she'll realize something is up. You have to convince her and earn her trust. She has to accept, and I mean really accept, or else you all will be on your own."

* * *

><p>She's finally alone.<p>

She and the boy from her district are inseparable. They held hands in the opening ceremonies and always train with each other. It's weird, and the sight of them together bothers me. But she's by herself this morning, and I can't help but wonder if she and that boy got into a fight. I hope so because it might make her more desperate for an ally and also because I don't like her being with him. It's like they're a couple. If Enobaria were here, she would tell me to capitalize on this moment.

But I hesitate.

If this were the arena and she were my prey, I would run to her right now and snap her neck. Easy. This is the Training Center, though, and I need to say the right things to gain her trust. I've never done anything like this before. I'm upfront and easy to read. She's not. I prefer physical confrontation. This requires social finesse.

This sounds a lot more difficult now, impossible even. I don't want to mess this up. She's attractive, and even though this is business and it shouldn't matter, I would take her rejection personally. It would hurt my pride. I have to keep my emotions under control, something I've never done that before. I can't get angry. If she sees my dark side, it's over.

I take in her appearance as I watch her from behind and, with a deep breath, I walk up to her.

"Girl on fire," I address her.

I know her real name, of course, but I don't want to piss her off. Tributes never refer to each other by name unless they are allies. It would definitely arouse suspicion, and I have to act in a believable manner.

She turns to me. I can see the surprise in her eyes, and then it's immediately replaced with suspicion. Enobaria was right. She is probably going to reject me, but I have to try. I can't walk away now.

"That's a pretty impressive score you got," I say, trying to appear calm.

A compliment should show her that I'm amiable. She should feel flattered, since it's coming from me.

Instead, she's as stone-faced as ever. Does she not realize who I am? I've been watching her this whole time, and she's acting like she doesn't even care who I am.

"Same to you," she says.

Finally. At least she knows what my score was, which should show her that I'm one of the best tributes here.

In any case, she's killed the small talk. Looks like she's similar to me in the social skills category. That's something else we have in common. Well, it's now or never.

"What do you say we work together?" I say, and I watch her closely for her reaction.

She doesn't see it coming. I can see the confusion in her eyes – she thinks I'm trying to trick her. Of course. This girl really does have trust issues, but I suppose that's a good policy to have, especially around someone like me.

"I'm being serious," I say.

She pauses for a moment, considering my offer. I clench my fists and prepare for the worst.

"Who's in your group?" she asks.

So she's interested at least. That's a good sign. She'd be stupid not to be.

"Clove, who's from my district, and Districts 1 and 4," I say.

Now that should impress her. We only invite the best. Except for the guy from District 11, we have the highest-scoring tributes. This is her chance to be part of the winning team, except of course there can only be one winner, and that's me. It would be ridiculous for her to reject me.

"Um," she begins.

I immediately see it in her eyes. She doesn't want to join. What the hell? I can't bear to hear her say it. I raise my fingers to her soft lips to stop her. It works; my touch throws her off, and the words don't leave her mouth.

"Think about it," I say. She has to. If she talks to her mentor about it, he'll convince her otherwise. Any other sane person would say yes.

I notice how nice her lips feel. If this much physical contact bothers her, I wonder fleetingly what would happen if I took it a step further and kissed her. I could really mess with her this way. In fact, maybe I could use it to my advantage, but only after I get her to accept my proposal. After all, this is the time to play nicely.

Now why doesn't she want to work together?

And then I see her eyes flicker to Clove and Glimmer, giving away her real concern.

Damn those girls. They're supposed to act kindly towards her, not try to kill her with their looks. Hell, it's like they _want_ me to fail, except they agreed to this, albeit grudgingly. They better own up to their promises, or I'll make them.

"Don't worry about them," I say, more as a threat to them than a promise to her.

"Right," she snorts.

She doesn't buy it. I don't blame her. Those girls really do want her killed, and they'll stab her in the back the first chance they get. But not if I can help it. They're not messing this up and even if the opportunity arises, they aren't going to get their hands on her. They aren't worthy. She is all mine.

"They're cool with you joining us," I lie. "They won't do anything."

Of course at this moment, Clove and Glimmer happen to be glaring at her. I want to wring their necks. I'm shaking in anger, but thankfully she doesn't notice. I remember what Enobaria said. I have to gain her trust.

"I'll make sure to keep them in line," I say as seriously as I can. And I mean it. They're not screwing up my plan.

"I'll think about it," she says, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I can breathe again.

Time to turn up the charm.

"Sure, girl on fire," I wink at her.

I hope she doesn't see through my cool façade because I'm burning with anger underneath.

* * *

><p>Once she leaves the Training Center, I corner Clove and Glimmer.<p>

"What the hell was that about?" I hiss at them. It takes so much effort to not lunge at their throats.

"What are you talking about?" Clove asks innocently, as she polishes one of her knives.

I can tell when she's playing dumb, and it pisses me off even more. Like I don't know what's going on.

"You want to try that again?" I say menacingly.

I take one step closer to them, and they shrink back involuntarily. That's more like it. Unlike these pathetic girls, the girl on fire would never back down from me like this. She's a lot more fun.

"Sorry we're not as thrilled as you are about fire girl," Glimmer mutters.

Fire girl? Of course someone with an idiotic name like Glimmer would come up with an equally idiotic nickname.

"Well you better be because if she says no, we don't get any sponsors," I say.

I walk away before they can open their mouths to apologize. Clove knows better, but that Glimmer girl might say the wrong thing to set me off, and I don't want to break any necks, I mean rules, here. I have to be in that arena.

I take my anger out on the dummies instead, decapitating and slicing them until they are nothing but scraps of plastic. They practically melt at the touch of my sword. Periodically, I catch the girls peering at me warily. They are scared of my wrath, and they should be.

Eventually, I tire and leave the Training Center in silence, still too furious to speak to my allies, who, right now, I want dead more than anyone else. If they ruin this, there will be hell to pay for.

As I head back to my quarters, walking at a brisk pace with my fists clenched, a soft, warm body runs into me. I take in a breath and notice a nice, clean smell. I look down and, recognizing the brown braid, realize it's none other than District 12. For some reason, the sight of her immediately calms me down.

She starts to fall backwards. It's sort of cute watching her clumsiness. I chuckle before reaching out and taking a hold of her. Her skin is soft, and her arms feel so fragile in my big hands, like I could snap them in half if I squeezed any harder. I probably could. I quickly let go of her.

"Careful there, girl on fire," I smirk. "Wouldn't want to get injured before the Games."

She glares at me. I find her defiance amusing. She should really smile more, but I like her when she's feisty. Glimmer has this annoying catty personality, and Clove can be downright cruel, but District 12 is something else. She's entertaining.

"Going back to train some more?" I ask. Maybe she's going back to make up with what's-his-name. I certainly hope not.

"No," she says.

That means she was on her way to see me. My heartbeat quickens in anticipation. My instinct tells me that she's here to say yes, otherwise why bother getting back to me so fast? But I clench my fists to keep my emotions steady.

"You have an answer for me?" I ask, watching her closely again. Her face is so serious, her eyes determined.

"Yes. My answer is yes," she says.


	3. The Game

A/N: I'm sorry it's been ages since I've updated. I lost traction on this story while I was writing Reckoner. I got too far ahead and didn't have the motivation to go back and write the story from Cato's perspective. Now that it's been awhile since I updated Reckoner, I figured finishing The King of Limbs would help get me back in the swing of things and ready to pick up from where Reckoner left off!

Without further ado, the next installment to The King of Limbs:

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><p>All the anger still pent up inside of me vanishes when I hear Katniss's response. I wasn't expecting her to say yes, even though any normal person would have done the same. I guess I don't find her to be exactly normal.<p>

I switch gears. Now, I need to find out how she got that eleven – to know how to destroy her in the arena. Or at least, that's what I tell myself. In actuality, I'm curious about _her_. Katniss is still a complete mystery to me, and this is one way to figure her out.

Once again, I'm surprised when Katniss consents to walking back together. Does she not fear me? I'm almost insulted. No, she probably thinks I won't hurt her, not before the Games. I suppose she's right about that. I won't jeopardize my opportunity to compete in the Games; I've been waiting a long time for this. Besides, I've built her up too much, to myself anyway, to beat her unfairly. And there's that little voice inside of me that yearns to see her in action.

I turn for the stairs, but she heads straight for the elevator. Irritated, I pause and try to assess her action. Is she trying to avoid me? She seems to be deep in thought, however, so she probably just hasn't realized that I'm on the second floor. I debate whether or not to blatantly reveal my interest in her.

But I have to know.

"So how'd you get that eleven?" I blurt out.

Enobaria would criticize my "tactlessness." However, I know that my bluntness will work on the girl on fire.

She doesn't respond immediately, which makes me think she's going to lie. I hate it when people lie. I've never been one of those conniving types, though here I am, trying to be.

Her response catches me completely off guard, though.

"The game makers ordered a whole pig and, me being the last person, they were eating and talking instead of paying attention. So I shot an arrow through the apple in the pig's mouth."

She has to be telling the truth because I don't know anyone who could come up with a story like that. I'm not even sure how to interpret it. What, she was feeling a little impatient, so she decided to risk her life and piss off the game makers? They could have disqualified her from the Games. And I thought I had an anger problem.

"That's…pretty bold," I say.I'll be the first to admit that I'm impressed, but thankfully no one's asking. "So you must be quite skilled at archery. That complements my swordsmanship."

Except it's not her archery accuracy that I find impressive. It's what drives her. She's predictably unpredictable. I wish I could read her mind because, except for her volunteering at the Reaping, I don't understand the reasoning behind her decisions. Somehow, I can guarantee that she didn't join forces with me because I'm a Career, which under most circumstances would be the logical explanation. I'm guessing her mentor – Haymitch, is it? – talked her into doing it, which begs the question: why _didn't_ she want to join me? We would be invincible together.

Of course, I can't say any of this out loud, so I brood silently to myself. Great, I'm becoming that guy from District 11.

"I have a lot of experience hunting," she interrupts my thoughts.

Okay, I really don't understand this girl. This is exactly what I'm talking about. I have no idea where that comment came from or what drove her to say that. I feel an ounce of disgust at myself. Now I'm becoming like Clove and Glimmer, who spend all their time in the training room dissecting what guys say. Why does this girl compel me to do the same?

"Isn't that illegal?" I ask, annoyed at myself.

"Yeah, but there's no electricity running through the fence, and the Peacekeepers don't care because we sell our game to them in the Hob. It's our black market," she shrugs.

No electricity running through the fence? I wonder how they figured that out, I snort to myself.

And then my mind rewinds the conversation. She said _we_. As in, she doesn't hunt by herself. There's no way in hell that skin-and-bones sister of hers hunts with her. If she did, she probably wouldn't have a problem holding her own in the Games, except for the fact that I'm here. And her mother looked like a walking vegetable.

I need to stop taking this Clove and Glimmer approach and just speak my mind.

"We?" I ask.

She hesitates again, which for some reason irritates me terribly.

"My friend and I," she says, trying to avoid further conversation with me. So she's keeping some kind of secret. I hate secrets. "Well, see you tomorrow."

I'm not sure if I've learned more about her or if she's left me further confused. But I can't allow her to have the upper hand.

"Sweet dreams, girl on fire," I say as I press the button to my floor.

A comment like that would affect most girls. Instead, she walks away without a second glance.

Damn. She wins this round, and she wasn't even trying.

* * *

><p>I'm still poring over my conversation with Katniss when I enter the apartment. Enobaria and Clove are congregated together in the living room. That can't be good. I narrow my eyes in suspicion. They clearly have been waiting for me.<p>

"Do me a favor and wait until the Games start to kill your partner," Enobaria snaps.

"_Enobaria_," Clove hisses out of embarrassment, her arms folded petulantly.

What the hell are they talking about? And then I remember my anger in the training room, before my encounter with Katniss. It was a lot of fun destroying those dummies, though it feels like it happened yesterday. I guess my mood has changed a lot over the span of an hour. I look over in amusement at Clove, who is fidgeting in agitation. Little do they know, I don't feel a hint of my previous fury.

"Are you going to cry to Enobaria every time you're scared of me?" I smirk. Clove is one of those typical girls that talks behind everyone's back, except she's a little smarter. "Because she's not going to be in the arena with us."

Enobaria flashes her sharp, golden teeth.

"If I were in the arena, I sure as hell wouldn't recommend crying on my shoulder," Enobaria says.

"God, I love our family," Clove says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "If it were any sappier, I'd be crying."

"Save the sappiness for the interviews," Enobaria says. She's back to business. "Speaking of which, Clove already practiced with me while you were gone talking to…whoever it was you were talking to. Now it's your turn."

As mean as she is, Enobaria does want us to win. Of course, she doesn't care about Clove or me outside of the Games; back at home, it wouldn't matter to her if we lived or died. However, she does have a vested interest in keeping our district's successful track record. We're all here to bring honor to our district. Enobaria did it before in my shoes, and she continues her legacy by grooming future tributes. If Clove and I don't perform well, Enobaria will return to District 2 with shame, and she'll likely encounter animosity, too. For those reasons, I trust her. Not that I have a choice.

"They're changing the interviews this year," Enobaria begins our session.

"How so?" I ask, frustrated.

I've been studying the Games for years, and the interviews have always been the same. I don't like unexpected changes.

"They're starting with District 12 and moving backwards," Enobaria says. "It has to do with that District 12 girl. That's not what they're saying of course, but I know it does."

For some reason, I'm less angry, knowing that this is about Katniss. I can understand why everyone would want to see her interview first. I would never admit it to Enobaria or Clove, but I'm curious to hear what she has to say, too – that, and to see what she wears. I think back to her appearance at the opening ceremonies…

"Yeah, I can definitely see why they changed up the interview order," Enobaria says dryly.

"What?" I snap, annoyed that Enobaria could read my facial expression. Girls are too good at that.

"Don't let your infatuation with her become anything more than what it is," Enobaria warns me. "Yes, you need her to join you so you'll get your sponsors. And you're doing a _fantastic_ job at that. But as soon as you're in the Cornucopia, you tear her throat out. You hear me? The sponsors will have no choice but to flock to you and Clove. Now as for the interviews…"

Enobaria runs me through the same interviewing strategy we've discussed before. Caesar's questions will be directed at my strengths, of which I have many, and I'll boast about them to gain the audience's, and potential sponsors', confidence. That, coupled with my looks, will ensure the audience's support. Despite her annoyance at the new interview order, Enobaria tells me to pay attention to the girl on fire and to potentially alter my strategy based on what Katniss says and how the audience reacts.

"I hate saying this, but she and her team must be on to something because everyone loves her," Enobaria grumbles.

By the end of our practice session, it's not the impending interviews that are on my mind, but what Enobaria said about tearing Katniss's throat out.

All this time, I've been focused on getting Katniss to ally with me. I didn't think about what would happen when the Games began, or specifically what Enobaria would want me to do. My fantasy of hunting the other tributes down with Katniss at my side is just that – a fantasy. Of course I have to partner with Clove, who, like Enobaria, will want to immediately kill Katniss. After all, Clove's from my district. How shameful would it be, if I were to choose Katniss over someone from my own district?

* * *

><p>Of course Katniss wears a dress that clings to her body and seems to flicker with flames. Of course she has to burn another arousing image in my mind.<p>

"_You_ may have lost whatever self-respect you had, but can you please refrain from drooling in front of the cameras?" Clove whispers to me, a grimace on her face. "Some of us still have an image to uphold."

I want to tell Clove that compared to Katniss, she doesn't have much of an "image." But knowing Clove, she probably snuck in a knife, and I'd rather not get blood all over this suit, especially since Katniss will see me in it. I shake my head. Since when did I care what Katniss thought about me? It's just because she looks stunning tonight, and I have to make a good impression, too. Yeah, that's what it is. And yet I can hear Clove's sarcastic response in my head: _keep telling yourself that_.

But as much as I anticipated her interview, Katniss, as always, doesn't reveal much about herself. She does talk about her sister and the Reaping. However, she only confirms what I already inferred from watching the videos of her district. I was hoping she would elaborate on her hunting hobby and specifically that mystery friend of hers, but she's not dumb enough to confess to breaking the law in front of the cameras. I'll have to find out some other way, though it's doubtful she'll talk about it in the arena, since we'll be continuously watched there as well.

On her way back to her seat, I can't help but check her out again. When Katniss catches me looking, I instinctively wink. To my satisfaction, she turns beet red. Finally, I'm getting to her, and now that I know how to…

"Ugh, I didn't know you were such a creep, Cato," Clove interrupts my interaction with Katniss.

"You ever look in the mirror, Clove?" I retort. "Because that's the definition of creepy."

I'm relieved to feel her elbow jab the side of my ribs, and not the pointy end of one of her knives.

The District 12 boy is up next, and I grudgingly learn his name: Peeta. Isn't that some kind of bread? Fitting for a pathetic baker's boy. As a relatively fit guy, he may be able to hold his own against most of the other girls. But I won't be surprised if he's taken out during the bloodbath, especially by me. I feel bad for Katniss, to have such weak tributes carrying her district's name, not that it has much of a reputation, except for losing.

Shockingly, however, his interview ends up being the most fascinating one of the lot.

Caesar gets him to talk about his crush, apparently one he's had his whole life, probably because the guy doesn't have anything else going for him. But that's not what piques my interest.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning…won't help in my case. Because she came with me," he says.

Wait, _what_? When it dawns on me that he's been rambling on about Katniss, I mutter a slew of swear words.

"You kiss your mom with that mouth?" Clove murmurs to me. "Come on, you don't really care about this sap story, do you?"

I should agree with her and vehemently deny that I care, but I'm still trying to grasp what's going on. Katniss has never mentioned Peeta around me, not that we've hung out that much. And given his talent in the training room, or lack thereof, he can't be her hunting partner. I wonder if it's too much to hope that this crush isn't reciprocated.

Except Clove is right. I shouldn't care. I'm probably just upset because anyone can see that this guy is no match for Katniss. He won't last five minutes in the Games, while she has a shot at winning. And, it sounds like Katniss has lived a tough life in her district, whereas he's had the comforts of his parents' bakery. In that sense, his admission should upset anyone.

I steal a glance at Katniss, whose face is as stoic as ever.

"Damn it, Cato," Clove curses. "You really do care, don't you? Well, let me spell it out for you, since you're too stupid to see through it yourself. That District 12 boy is lying. He probably didn't even know her before the Reaping. I saw her reaction, and trust me; she was just as surprised as you and I were."

"You're just saying that," I say, though her words make me feel better.

Clove glowers at me.

"I didn't say that to comfort you, idiot," she says, practically seething. "I'm telling you because I need you to concentrate on the Games and not _her_."

I tune out Clove's rant. It doesn't matter if Clove is right or not. I can't let Katniss be with the boring baker's boy. In this moment, I decide that I must be the one to win her affections. This _Peeta_ has just created a new competition, one perhaps almost as interesting as the Games. And I swear to myself that I will be the victor of this game as well.

By the time it's my turn to be interviewed, I've already "altered" my strategy.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to be with her," I say, knowing the audience will misconstrue my words for a confession of love. They don't realize how literal I'm being.

"Katniss is fighting with _me_."

With one sentence, I kill two birds with one stone. Not only am I ahead of Peeta, but I've also found a way to avoid killing Katniss in the bloodbath.

I don't care how pissed off Enobaria and Clove will be, or even the other Careers for that matter. This is about my game, my glory, and I'm here to win it all.

* * *

><p>AN: So what do you think? It's obviously been awhile since I've written for HG. Tell me if Cato seems OOC! Also, it's hard to keep all the facts consistent in parallel stories, so let me know if you noticed any errors. If there's still interest in this story, I'll update again soon!


	4. Desire

"What the hell were you thinking when you announced to the world that District 12 is fighting with us? Oh sorry, I mean _you_," Clove rages.

Clove storms around the living room, throwing a fit. She's never this loud unless she's really pissed. I knew my interview would set her off.

"Come on, Clove," I fold my arms, unperturbed by her tantrum. "Just say her name: Katniss."

Smirking, I dodge the vase Clove sends my way with finesse. It's too easy to rile her. She's lucky that I'm in a good mood, though, and amused by her temper.

"Cool it," Enobaria says, raising a hand towards Clove. She turns to me with a suspicious glint in her eye. "Tell us though. What _were_ you thinking?"

I was expecting this question, and I have a response prepared.

"I did what you said and got us our sponsors," I shrug. "Katniss may have agreed to join us, but she and that guy would have gotten all the sponsors because of their 'love story.' Now we get a slice."

What I'm saying is true, even if it's not why I announced my alliance with Katniss. This epiphany bothers me almost as much as it would bother Enobaria and Clove, but not as much as it should. Before all of this, not that I know what "this" is, I would have focused solely on the strategy of winning. I wished for nothing else. But now I find myself acting on other desires, desires that I know shouldn't exist. And yet I haven't lifted a finger to suppress them. Restraint isn't a strength of mine.

"Just say his name: Peeta," Clove mimics me. "And 'we'are not tied to Katniss. You are."

Enobaria bares her teeth at Clove to shut her up. At least Enobaria seems to consider my explanation. I hate that I have to convince her of anything, but it's the only way to get her off my case. Clove, on the other hand, is a different story.

"Good," Enobaria grins with her fangs. "I thought it was a smart move. I just had to be sure you were doing it for the right reasons."

Clove's jaw drops at Enobaria's agreeing with my actions, and she immediately begins voicing her protests. Realizing the implications of Enobaria's words, I clench my fists. That conniving woman. She was testing me. I'm furious that she would doubt my loyalty.

"Don't take it personally," Enobaria shrugs, though she eyes me warily. Her fangs couldn't stop me. If she were in the arena with me, I would rip out each and every one of them before I killed her. "This isn't about you, me, or any of us. It's about our district."

Before I have a chance to respond, break something, hurt someone, or do all of the above, I hear a knock at the door. Clove falls silent. I, too, am distracted, as well as annoyed by this interruption. Who is bothering us at this hour? Enobaria gives the door a knowing stare. She sighs, and then it dawns on me.

"It's _her_?" Clove beats me to the punch.

Enobaria rolls her eyes.

"Of course it's her. She wasn't anticipating Cato's actions, so she's probably here for an explanation. Now don't do anything stupid and get yourself disqualified," Enobaria warns Clove. "I don't need to remind you that we haven't had a disqualification in decades."

Clove scowls, but, unbelievably, she doesn't protest. Whipping around, Clove stomps towards her room. Whatever keeps her from hurting Katniss. I shake my head, not understanding why this is so difficult for Clove.

Meanwhile, Enobaria answers the door. I want to tell her that I should be the one talking to Katniss. But before I know it, she returns.

"It's her," she confirms. "You better convince her to stick with your story because she could unravel it all."

It's a fair point that I hadn't yet considered. I didn't think about Katniss's involvement in all of this, though it seems obvious now that I need her corroboration for my plan to work.

"And how do I do that?" I ask sarcastically. I agree with Enobaria, but I'm still irate.

"Play dumb at first, and see if that works," Enobaria says. I'm about to argue again when she cuts me off. "You convinced her to join you in the first place, so do it again."

"That's easier said than done," I retort. Before Enobaria has time to respond, I head to the door. I don't want to keep Katniss waiting.

I have no idea why, but the sight of Katniss has a calming effect on me. The remaining tension I have stems from Enobaria's proximity. Since she's listening, I have to play by her book. I hate following instructions or rules, which is another reason why the Games appeal to me. There aren't any in the arena.

"Hey Katniss," I greet her casually.

"Don't call me that," she says irritably, out of nowhere. "Can we talk somewhere private?"

A flash of anger surges through me, and I'm unable to maintain my calm façade. Why are all females intent on upsetting me today? I want to grab her by the shoulders and remind her that Katniss is her name. I didn't even think she liked being called the girl on fire. That shows how much I know about her.

"Sure," I manage to shrug, though my muscles are tense. I am at least eager to get away from Enobaria.

I follow Katniss up to her floor. I frown, wondering if we're going to have this conversation in her apartment around her people. I'm not afraid of them, but being outnumbered would be annoying. And I'll admit that I would be disappointed, too; it's a cowardly strategy.

I'm therefore pleasantly surprised when Katniss walks past the door leading to her apartment. She instead takes us to the roof, where we are alone. I did have her pegged as independent, unlikely to rely on others for help – like me. I'm relieved to have my perception validated.

I can't help the more sinister thoughts that also arise. Our isolation is convenient for me. I can dictate where our conversation goes, with no one around to stop me. I can test Katniss and act on my desires, with no one around to interfere. Yes, this is very convenient.

"What's this about?" I ask. I want to hear what she has to say.

"You know what this is about," she snaps. "What were you playing at, telling Caesar that we had been getting to know each other these past weeks? We never spoke to one another until yesterday."

That stings because what I said was true, at least for me. All this time I've been observing her, getting to know her, and she acts like she didn't even know of my existence. And yet I don't see how that's possible. I'm clearly the biggest threat to her. Surely, she must have been watching me, too.

But I don't give any signs that her words have affected me. Katniss hasn't expressed anything besides her usual stoic indifference, unlike the other girls I'm used to interacting with. I'm determined to get a reaction out of her.

"You think I was going to let you and lover boy get all the sponsors?" I say.

I'm glad that Clove isn't around because, as much as I hate to admit it, I do find it painful to say his name. At least I'm being myself. I tried playing dumb like Enobaria wanted me to. As I thought, it didn't work. Katniss is smart and sees through my act. I got her to join me through honesty, one of many characteristics that draws me to her.

"Share the love, Katniss," I say, reaching out and playing with a strand of her hair. It's a way of manipulating her, but I'm legitimately curious about how her brown curls feel. And they don't disappoint. Her hair is soft and silky, unlike her spiky personality.

"I said don't call me that," she spits, as if reading my thoughts.

My temper flares again, but this time I snap. My body moves without me thinking; I react with my emotions. In a split second, I have Katniss pinned against the wall, my hands squeezing her soft, yet toned arms. I resist the urge of crushing her bones, though I've probably already bruised her.

Before my temper further spirals out of control, I catch a flash of fear in her eyes. This is the first time I've gotten a reaction out of her, and I feel deeply satisfied. My triumph is enough to keep my fury at bay.

"What is this? An attempt to get out of the alliance?" I say, using my words to express my anger instead. My mind races to think of ways to keep her in the alliance. "Let me tell you something, _Katniss_. If you suddenly back out, people are going to start questioning this whole love story, your boy included. The way I see it, this love triangle benefits us all. You're mad about me making up stuff? What do you think he was doing?"

"He was trying to defend me," she retorts.

I'm caught off guard by her fiery response. I can't believe that Katniss continues to resist me, even though she's in physical danger. She's the only person I have been unable to intimidate into compliance. I don't know whether to be impressed or irritated.

"_I _can protect you," I say. The notion of that baker's boy "defending" Katniss makes me laugh out loud. "What's he going to do? Camouflage the others to death? You're safe with me. You can trust me. If I kill you, there won't be any sponsors coming my way."

It's true, though that's not the real reason why I won't kill Katniss until the end. I don't care about sponsors; I can succeed without them. What I do need is Katniss fighting by my side, at least until it's down to the two of us. I respect her. She's tough as nails and here to win. She _volunteered_. No other tribute has our level of determination.

Even now, she stares at me defiantly, infuriated that I'm overpowering her. I find it endearing, but I'm also a little concerned. I've used all the logic I can think of, and she may still turn me down. If that's the case, I'm not sure what I'll do.

"If I stay with you, you have to promise not to kill Peeta," she says to my incredulity.

That's what it takes to convince her? I laugh at the ridiculousness of her request, but she doesn't budge. So she's serious. Well, I'll let her know how unreasonable she's being.

"You do understand how this game is played, right?" I ask.

"You know what I mean," she says.

I understand what she's asking of me, but I don't like it one bit. Deals like this are uncommon, though not unheard of. When these deals are made, it's generally between tributes of the same district. Moreover, it's the family and friends that beg one tribute not to kill the other – not the tributes.

I know from first hand experience. Clove's parents, who are good friends with mine, approached me before I left for the Capitol. They asked me to take care of their daughter in the arena, knowing, of course, how much I can promise. I told them the truth: I will protect Clove for as long as I can, but I will win. And if I have to be the one to kill her, I'll make it as quick as possible.

Katniss is now asking me to avoid killing the baker's boy until it's necessary. I've never heard of one tribute asking another to have mercy, or whatever you want to call it, on someone. Tributes make alliances, but they are fickle and temporary. This request is much too personal. I didn't believe Clove when she said that the baker's boy and Katniss must not have known each other prior to the Reaping. In the videos, they acknowledged their acquaintance at the podium. However, I did not think there was a friendship between them, much less a romance.

"Okay, we'll save the fight over you for the finale," I agree because it's the only way to keep my alliance with Katniss.

Except my blood starts to boil when I think about my promise and how Katniss cares so much for the baker's boy that she would ask me to spare _his_ life over her own.

Instead of acting on my anger through aggression, I find myself leaning into Katniss and grabbing her soft curls. It doesn't matter that I'm inexperienced. I've seen my older brothers kiss girls before, so I know what to do. I tell myself that I'm doing this to show Katniss that she had better fulfill her part of the bargain, our side of the "love triangle." But I'm enjoying this far too much.

To my disappointment, she doesn't reciprocate. I wonder if I'm doing this wrong. No, Katniss just isn't easily influenced. She doesn't yield. It both excites and frustrates me.

Then a disturbing thought pops into my head: would she show me affection, if I were the baker's boy? The idea of her preferring him to me is so upsetting that I could storm into her apartment and snap his neck right now. I have to somehow gain the upper hand in this deal. Once Katniss gets to know me, she'll see how superior I am.

It takes a lot of strength to let her go, but I don't want to push her into backing out.

"I'll leave him alone until the end, but I won't let him steal you from me," I say.


End file.
